


Prismatic

by spaghettipolicy



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 10:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaghettipolicy/pseuds/spaghettipolicy
Summary: This collection of fics is inspired by the color-related prompts from LiveJournal's Ultimate Fanfic Challenge community. They are: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Brown, Black, White, and Colorless. To view the complete list of prompts, click here: http://fanfic100.livejournal.com/profile





	Prismatic

“How’s it looking?” Charlie asked.

He and Frank sat on their living room floor peering into the mouth of a Hefty bag. Frank stuck his head almost fully inside, and the bag’s liquid contents made the plastic ripple. “It’s comin’ along,” he assured Charlie. “All the peaches finally settled to the bottom.”

“Does it smell like wine yet?”

Frank inhaled deeply, as if preparing to sample a fine Bordeaux instead of a garbage bag full of prison hooch. “Nah, it’s still pretty yeasty. You think we put too many hot dog buns in there?”

Charlie shook his head. “I only put in like two. I didn’t want the bread taste to overpower the fruit cocktail.”

“How much Hawaiian punch did you put in?”

“The whole gallon, man. I just followed the recipe exactly like you said,” Charlie replied. He handed Frank an iPad. “You wanna double check it?”

Frank adjusted his glasses and consulted the screen. “It says here the fermentation process can take five to seven days, and we’re on—what? Day four?”

Charlie nodded. “I’m pretty sure this is four. Because remember we started it on Sunday, ‘cause we couldn’t go to Fine Wine & Good Spirits.” Frank’s plan to siphon unpurchased Carlo Rossi into a backpack had been thwarted when he and Charlie arrived at the liquor store to find that it was closed, so after some determined browsing on Bing he found a recipe for pruno—the kind of wine convicts made in secret in jail cell urinals with ketchup and oranges squirreled away from the prison canteen.

“Aww, yeah. You’re right, Charlie,” Frank said, remembering. He tied the bag closed again. “We gotta be careful not to tie it too tight so the gases can escape. Otherwise it’ll explode everywhere,” he cautioned. Charlie nodded in agreement. Then, after a contemplative moment, he asked:

“So when it’s done, what are we gonna do with it?”

At this, Frank smiled. “We’re gonna put it in bottles with our signature label, and we’re gonna market it as ‘artisanal small-batch wine.’ Hipsters will pay through the nose for shit like this. We’ll make a killing!”

“What’s our signature label?” Charlie asked.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Frank admitted, “but I was thinking of calling it ‘Red Mantis Vineyard.’ What do you think?”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s got an okay ring to it, I guess. But what about, like, ‘Green Man Vineyard’ And we could put a picture of Green Man on it? People love Green Man.”

“No, no, no Green Man,” Frank waved a hand dismissively. “It’s gotta have an animal in the name. People pay more for wine with an animal on it. Plus, it doesn’t make any sense to give red wine a name with ‘green’ in it. It’s gotta be Red Mantis.”

“How come you get all the credit? We did equal work,” Charlie argued.

“Yeah, but it was my idea.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem very fair, Frank.”

Seeing that Charlie was openly sulking, Frank switched into bargaining mode. “I’ll tell you what: How about we split the difference and call it Red Mantis Man Vineyard? We’ll put a picture of a mantis on the label, _but_ it’ll have your head.”

This made Charlie perk up. “You really think people will wanna buy that?”

“I know they will. People will buy all kinds of bullshit as long as it’s overpriced. Makes ‘em feel like they’re getting in on something exclusive.”

“All right, now you’re talkin’, Frank!” Charlie enthused.

Frank clapped him affectionately on the back. “Come on,” he said, indicating the bag. “Help me get this into the toilet tank.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”


End file.
